


His Heart Made of Poetry

by Vziii



Series: Apartment Poetry - a Good Game poem-fic collection [1]
Category: Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Do people use them the same way I need to be online every couple hours?, Drug Addiction, Heavy Angst, I can be very wrong about drug addiction considering I've never tried them, I'm Sorry, Lots of Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vziii/pseuds/Vziii
Summary: I was listening to Storms of September and all of a sudden I knew I wanted to write something based on it. Enjoy this thing.





	His Heart Made of Poetry

Roses are red,  
Violets are blue,  
Everything changed  
When I met you.

Beer in my blood  
And you in my eyes  
Turned a usual bar visit  
Into a wonderful life.

Ryland, the name  
Printed onto my heart,  
The name that gave Alex  
A chance to restart.

We were the ones  
Not for school lessons,  
Coloring outside lines  
With no real intentions.

Video games always put  
Your being in whole.  
Your fingers had skills  
On keyboard and console.

You never stopped believing   
In my lyrics and songs,  
No matter how simple,  
Flat-toned, or long.

You found the poetry   
That made up my heart,  
You said I wouldn't be me  
Without that part.

My heart was one reason  
You stayed with me so long.  
Another was your pity  
That I wasn't strong.

But I only turned weaker  
And kept going back  
To drinking glasses of poison  
And painting my lungs black.

Beer bottles and a bong  
Begged me for my all,  
Thus rent money and health   
Had to take the fall.

You didn’t object  
To my sins, my failure  
To restart myself, to  
Treat you or me better. 

You were too innocent,  
Too pure for me.  
Didn't you see why  
I made you leave?

I could hear your tears  
Fall upon the floor  
When you found me   
Leaving for the door.

"Please don't leave me,"  
I still hear you cry.  
"You know I'm too weak  
To say goodbye."

"I'm never coming back,  
So please, forget about me.  
I hurt you enough, Ryland,"  
I shake as I plead.

I still can't understand  
Why you gave me mercy  
Despite all I had done  
That left you in poverty.

"At least keep this place.  
I'll live somewhere else.  
For you, a new apartment  
Would be expensive as hell."

You didn't let me reply,  
You just ran to your room.  
I didn't go after you.  
I didn't dare to. 

I still hear you stuffing  
All you had in a bag.  
I still hear you slamming  
The front door with a bang.

I still remember your stanza,  
Two short little rhymes  
You'd left on the bed,  
Your last goodbye: 

> _Your heart made of poetry_  
>  _Is too good to break._  
>  _I wish you all the best,_  
>  _For all of your days._

I must have cut you   
Too deep to heal.  
... I hope not.  
I hope you don't... feel...

... don't think of me, Ryland.  
I'm not worth your time.  
Spend it on a life  
More accomplished than mine.

You deserve the world, Ryland,  
One that treats you with care,  
With love, with respect,  
That repays you what you've shared.

You can't find that with me,  
With a young boy who fell.  
I can't help anyone.  
...not even myself.

No longer will anyone  
Come close to me,  
Learn how destructive  
I can be.

I'll keep inhaling  
The choking smoke,  
Hoping that walking happily  
Down your separate road.

Don't come for me  
When I pass out  
From all the booze  
And all the doubt.

Your heart doesn't need  
To hear mine fail.  
Find someone better,  
Your happy fairytale.

The roses and violets  
Will lift their heads up  
Without my dark clouds  
Blocking out their sun.

Let my storms of September  
Avoid them and you.  
Let them keep their colors,  
their beautiful hues.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be real, in the middle of this I was contemplating making this Egobang instead. Well, maybe next time.


End file.
